Triumphant
by Samsu
Summary: He would have to rely on his eyes, but how could he trust them, when they had shown him so much he would never believe. NaruxSaku


**Been a lack of good NarutoxSakura stories of late (my personal opinion don't take my word for it) so I threw this together over many weeks of laziness. Tired to make it read well but have no Beta so pin point any mistakes I have made my lovlies. I quite like it, please tell me if you agree or disagree.**

I acknowledge Naruto to be the sole property of Masashi Kishimoto, one Damn fine young man. But this is mine so hands off. x

**Triumphant**

**  
**

Victory Spells Defeat.

An idle orange sun burnt angrily above in a boiling sky, irascible rays boring through the cobweb canopy, and then smashing down to sizzle the disturbed forest floor. Thin dust and detritus were caught in the air with perfect delicacy by its spread as hot, viscous air charioted pine fresh sweat and blood. It pressed through the tall timber, oppressive and glutinous, lying like a warm, sodden blanket over everything, encumbering senses and obstructing breath.

And, as if bearing down from the tops of every tree came the screech and crackle of what could only be described as a thousand panicked birds. Their voices swam through the liquid air with incessant ferocity, piranha like, snapping their static maw's at anything within reach. It stalked through the vivid trees, carving their calm evergreen souls with slashing sorrow, swarming and stinging. Grievances of revenge, and betrayal slashed onto smooth bark.

Finally the tainted lament began to fade, the edges of the requiem haunting through the solemn, straight backed pines, brushing them with unholy chill. The call finished, but its icy tendrils still held a defiant choking grip for a few moments longer, clinging grimly to the snapped branches and ripped trunks. In that moment, for the longest age a moment could hold, the forest held a tight, painful breath, too scared to open its eyes.

Then, gently, it exhaled, its usual echoes on its breath, quiet at first, then slowly breaking out into calm mournful brilliance, as if knowing that some great bereavement had just come to pass.

All the while, as the forest settled, two figures, the forests disturbers, remained motionless and quiet. Epic battle and omnipresent, derisory heat had confederated, leaving them drenched in splattered grime and moist funk.

They stood too close to each other to be foes, it was unnatural, but that was what they were.

Adversaries.

One by choice, the other given none. The battle was over. The deciding blow struck. A champion and a loser forever granitized in the scrambled chaos that was their affinity.

They remained rooted and motionless for a while longer, each seemingly not daring to breathe, as if holding the belief that the first one to do so would be the one to fall. Yet both knew the outcome, though neither would believe it.

Something had happened, something neither had counted upon.

A killing strike.

Quite suddenly the slightly taller of the two stumbled forwards, collapsing as if being struck hard on the back of the leg. He quickly grabbed the back of the other mans neck to keep him from falling hard on his front. A harsh, gurgling cough broke out from the crumpled man and a generous amount of crimson came splashing onto the others chest. The victor's soot eyes looked down at his now gently spluttering victim, absorbing the sight with wide eyes. The air was still thick with dust and wreckage, and not wanting to choke like the blonde, the self-ostracised youth caught careful snatches of air through his nose, ignoring his starved muscles cries for relief. He would not lose his unbroken grace like the failure in front of him.

Slowly, almost quizzically, his gaze wandered to the foreign blood on his chest. He watched as the droplets of blood were absorbed by the sullied white linen of his robes, spreading out even further and joining other spreading pools of cooling blood. Transfixed he kept his gaze there, not really taking in what he was seeing, not hearing the cries of the forest, nor the chokes of the other man.

Tentatively his gaze crept from his chest to his hand, which was being lovingly warmed by the steady flow of an unseen fluid. When his eyes reached this hand however it was nowhere to be seen, and for a panicked second he thought that he had lost it. To his relief he felt the twitch of his middle finger which, along with the rest of his fingers and palm, was deeply embedded into the other's chest. He found his relief was almost as short lived as his panic however, when he realised that his finger was still twitching. No it was not twitching.

It was trembling.

Something flickered dangerously behind those black vicious eyes.

He was shaking, he could feel it though he would not believe it, which bewildered him, just as the end of this battle had.

_He_ defiantly was not shaking a moment ago.

**_I'm not shaking then _**

_He_ should not be scared.

**_I'm never scared _**

The battle had ended.

**_I won. _**

Yes he had won. But, the thrill

The thrill _he_ had expected,

**_The thrill I ve longed for, _**

For all those dark years,

That thrill had remained frighteningly allusive.

Bewilderment was beginning to reluctantly give way to something new, something far worse. An unexplainable panic began pushing bewilderment aside, not a frisson fear but a throttling, mind consuming dread. All of a sudden smothered self scepticisms and drowned fears resurrected themselves and began to bounce and rebound within his head with tyrannical hysteria.

_What was he doing? _

_What had he just done? _

_Avenge _

_Really? _

_This is what he wanted. _

_Was it? _

_Blood everywhere. _

_I am… _

_Brother _

_Best friend _

_No one _

_Weak _

**_NO! _**

He carried on staring at his phantom hand. Slowly, bringing a halt to his inner assault, he drew his gaze to the arm his hand was presumably attached to. His sleave had been ripped off and the whole arm was trembling a feverish dance, small icy droplets of perspiration sprouting across it. It was spreading up his arm and begining to break out across his entire body, burning as is being dipped into ice cold water..

A loud gurgling rasp escaped his casualty, and by pure reflex, he snapped his head up towards him, only to see a drooping head, but he had cracked. The veil had gone, his cool exterior evaporated. The reflex to look at the other man a sign that he was alarmingly agitated, that he was scared.

**_I am NEVER scared! _**

He turned away. He wanted to be sick, he had to get out of here.

He made to pull his arm out and escape from this confusing scene, but before he could a powerful grasp caught his flowering wrist and he snapped his head back round again, panic and revulsion contorting his face.

He blanched as his strained glare was greeted with a half feature.

A broken face

One side hidden by the shattered sharp remains of a wolfish mask. Red outlined the one remaining slit of an eye hole then slid down where the bridge of the nose should have been and then licked round the remains of a cruel snarl. The broken half left the mans features open to the elements, One dulling eye presenting a soft blue haze, and the slackened half of a sad smile, but still a dazzling spark remained on that half face almost spectacularly, even though it knew the truth.

He continued to stare back at the half human, the collision of his enemy's expressions terrifying him, stealing words from his ever constricting throat.

After a long, strangled minute, his captor spoke

"You, you beat me." The voice was strained and carried a liquid hurt, as his lungs and throat filled.

For the first time that day, for the first time in years he felt his heart pound in his chest, the heart he had sworn to discard in his passion of revenge. He turned again and tried to pull away, but the grip tightened painfully. He snapped back round again, this time his free fist raised to strike down his tormenter. His strike stayed though, as again he was meet with a broken smile, and that dulling, but brilliant eye. His fist remained raised, a confused, shaking ball of faltering, misdirected fury.

The shaking, terrified young man spoke in soft anger though a constricted jaw.

"Let go." But the other did not, he just carried on smiling, a serene look falling over his bruised, bloodied face. To say unnerved the victor, was an understatement.

"Let got now." Again, but now his physical fear evident in his voice. The smile transformed into vague amusement, and as it grew the blonde's eye closed, a smile echoing happier days, beaming reminiscence. It seared the raven youth.

"You know me better than that, when have I ever listened to you?" The chuckle was cut short as his legs suddenly gave way, but his grip remained defiant, pulling the dark haired man down with him as he fell to his knees. A more intense fit of coughs and blood followed his fall and the young dark haired felt a sickening crunch of sinew squeeze his invisible fist. He looked again at the wound he had inflicted upon his suborn rival, and he felt a new anger sear within him.

"You. You could have avoided-" but he was cut short by a sudden outburst of laughter from the blonde, and through it the grievously injured man spluttered.

"Your actually felling guilty? I take comfort in that," He carried on laughing mirthfully, before wheezing,

"I didn't think you would go through with it." He laughed a little more, but it lessened into a sad chuckle, then further until it faded into an abyss. The last sad chuckle was unmistakably laced with a sniffle, and the avenger saw a tear blink out of the still closed and now scrunched up eye lid. Silence flowed before he spoke again,

"I didn't think you would go through with it." No hint of merriment was upon his beat face nor upon his bloodied tongue, only hurt his voice a ghost of what it was just a moment ago. Was that disappointment in his voice?

The young black haired man remained silent, but his expression was not granite, he looked on as if drawing to some unwanted conclusion, the left upper corner of his lip twitching erratically, the dark pools of his eyes rippling. The blonde looked back at those stirring surfaces, an inquisitive and searching look falling across his fractioned face. The raven man felt the gaze bore into him, as the blonde broke the surface of those pools. He felt as is something was being drawn out of him, something embarrassing and unwanted. He tried with all his might to pull back, but to no avail. Suddenly the whiskered man spoke, completely catching him off guard, causing him to jerk his head up.

"Do you know what the others called me in ANBU?" the blonde asked. The dark haired man stopped struggling. He did not attempt to guess, so stared back with angry sparking eyes, as ruthless obsessive nature battled with reawakening morals. The twitching grew. Seeing the obvious affect he was having, the beaten man smiled, a warm but sorrowful smile that any would find themselves drowning in.

"They nicknamed me Lonely Wolf." The blonde tapped the surviving section off his mask. He carried on glaring at the dying man, but then a sudden nostalgia came across him, and his mouth betrayed a crack of a smile and quite unexpectedly he found himself replying.

"It's a stupid name, it suits you." Immediately he wished he had not, feeling quite disgusted at himself.

**_That was new. _**

The blonde gave a little smile but did not look back, and after a while carried on.

"I returned alone on my very first team mission….." A small pause followed, a warm breeze picking lightly at the others oblivion hair, and the blonde continued.

"I was part of three team missions after that, but each time at least one would get injured badly, or ..." he trailed off as evident self disgust contorted the blondes pale face. Clearly he thought it was his fault.

**Some things never change. **

"Ba-chan said that it was all part of being a Shinobi, but I don't think so." He let out a sharp sigh.

"Each mission was a failure." More silence followed, and the blonde appeared to struggle with his words. He was not sure whether it was his injury causing it or that he was just struggling with what were evidently painful memories.

**_Still weak. _**

"All my missions since have been solo," he continued, "as almost all of ANBU think I'm cursed, even the ones who don't know my, my truths." He carried on smiling.

"But there are a few who have stayed by my side, or at least tried" For the briefest moment he saw a light positively pulse in the fallen mans eyes, but as quickly as it had appeared it had gone. There was a long silence before the blonde said, with almost with what could be described as arrogance,

"I haven't failed one solo mission since." And again that same flicker positively jumped from him, and a ridiculous grin pulled at his mouth, as if he were having the best time of his life.

**_Don't enjoy this _**

Another pause and the intense pleasurable aura disappeared, and a look of loss slipped down upon the blondes face like the droplets of rain down cool glass. Then he spoke again.

"I should have stuck with what I was good at." He whispered these words, but almost immediately after he had finished his eyes bulged and neck strained before he quickly shut them tight and faced the floor to begin, if possible, an even greater fit of raw coughing and spluttering.

He could not think of anything to say, he boiled with anger that Naruto was speaking so calmly to him, but eager to listen at the same time. Finally he stopped coughing and, with out warning, and much to the dark haired mans shock, the blonde, still holding onto the others wrist, swished his free arm around him and pulled him into a fierce one armed embrace, pulling him in so tight he could feel Naruto's struggling pulse thump in desperately in his own chest. The blonde laid his forehead lightly onto the top of his frozen shoulder, hardly putting any weight upon it at all. The dark haired man found that he could not move he was frozen where he was, eyes wide and unbelieving.

What was even worse was that he found he had no protest.

**You are WEAK! **

Slowly the grip on his wrist left and was transferred to the back of his robes, the tips of the other mans nail bitten fingers digging into his upper back slightly, sending a shiver of unknown emotion down his spine.

"Don't waste this." The dying man pressed his words through gritted and his teeth into the small gap between them. His words were thick with effort, it was costing him all he had left, but still he afforded a small laugh at the end of his sentence. The dark haired man did not miss the tint of madness in it, and for the first time, since all those years ago at the Valley of the End, he was frightened. Frightened of Naruto. Hot blood was now seeping through his white robes and onto the chilled flesh of his torso, warming it briefly before turning cold, sending this time not a comforting, but repugnet chill trickling up his neck. It lingered on defensive boarderline of his skin, then seaped deep into his neck, deeper to the back of this throat where it stuck stubournly.

"You won," The dying young man took in a sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut in a horrible grimace, but carried on speaking, words spaced between long wheezing breaths.

"But I…I think I finally… finally conquered…you." He choked on these last words, the elegant dark haired man feeling the shudders though his own body, trembling with grief. The blonde's embrace began to weaken his strength leaving him and he slumped even more onto the other's crouched form. He had pushed his body remorselessly through and past its limits and the pale man felt the clutches intense flames die down the blonde spoke again, his voice now broken and very high as he gave out a little weep.

"Shit." He wiped his eyes on the back of his arm, and then sobbed quietly into it. Whatever it was that had caught in his throat stopped him form saying anything, comfort of otherwise, he did not know what to say, how would he?

**But you know this is wrong, and its down to you.**

_Shut up, You're wrong._

**I'm Never wrong****  
**

The stiffeled sobs died a little and Naruto spoke into the others' shoulder, his broken voice fluctuating.

"Tell her, tell her ...I'm happy, and that I'm s-sorry…shit…I'm so sorry…please…Sasuke" As soon the whispered croak finished reaching his ears, Naruto withdrew his embrace and, with unbelievable speed, the arm that had been slung around Sasuke's neck and the other which had been weakly gripping the back of his white robes where raised either side of Naruto's shoulders.

Before he could make sense of what was going on, two palms smashed hard into his chest like blocks of stone, sending him flying and tumbling backwards, but he managed to catch something in his hand as he did. He came to rest on his back, dizzying pain making his head swim did he pushed himself upwards on his palms to look just above his own chest.

Naruto was still on his knees, arms hanging limply between his legs, the back of his hands resting against the floor. He was now completely maskless, allowing Sasuke and the sorrowful forest to see him completely. A tragic look was upon his face, slack and wandering, his normally tanned skin drained of all its colour, making the whisker like scars even more pronounced. His body shook with waves of convulsions and his eyes were raw and pleading, as if looking for some sort of guidance or relief.

Tears began to trickle from his unfocused eyes, tenderly caressing those carved whiskers, catching the ever deepening orange light. Then, quite suddenly they focused, and caught Sasuke's own shocked glare. Slowly the blonde seemed to realized where he was and what he was doing, pulling him out of his delirium. With gentle grace a pure beam adorned his features, calm and passionate.

Sasuke, still on his front, felt a maelstrom build violently within his chest, breaking through, like a failing dam, about to burst free with terrible force.

He wanted to shout out, but all he managed was a wavering growl though gritted teeth.

"No…" Naruto carried on smiling, the spark beginning to drown beneath his hooded, dropping eyes, but before it was lost to oblivion his lids closed and with his last ounce of strength the blonde mouthed a name.

Sasuke read the name off his lips, A name, he did not recognise.

Finally the dam, his last defence broke, a torrent bursting through. As he made to raise himself Naruto fell, as if in slow motion, to his side, his body folding up when it hid the soft ground, his face rolling to floor,.

He reached him in mere seconds, and rolled him onto his back, the blondes head swinging obscenely, as if his neck were comprised rubber.

He was faced with still, closed eyes.

"Damn it, you stupid bastard, wake up! What do you mean you conquered me! What does that mean! Don't you dare die!"

Naruto's head hung back limply and Sasuke stared at the peaceful face before him . He continued to stare with searching eyes for a drawn and realising moment, like an unsure, hesitant child deciphering what the clear, bold lettering being trust in front of them was spelling.

He had dared to.

The quivering tight, pin prick mass in the very centre of his gut told him he had. There was no argument, its lead heavy; ice hot pierce did not lie.

Naruto was no longer there.

Gently he lowered him back down, bowing his head slightly, letting his grip loosen when he felt the dead weight in his grasp evaporate.

Unquestionable dead weight.

He still kept a lacking grip and the sticky jacket for that stretched moment, as still the forest sung its taunts at him. Blood did not show on the blonde's uniform, only on his own white linen robes.

He did not look at him, but tightened a white grasp on that jacket, feeling thick, cold liquid squeeze though his iron grip, and trickle down the channels of his fingers.. He lowered his head mere inches away from the body's broken chest, as close as he could get to it without further tainting it. Though he was so close, he felt as if an infinite distance were between him and the young man beneath him, as if the space between him and the ground was a void.

It had not felt like that a mere minute ago. But now…

**_He's no longer here. _**

His jaw tight and he whispered into the emptiness before him

"Who do I tell? Who is she?"

No voice replied, but instead the fallen tangle of conifers to his right whispered back movement. He swung his head to meet the forests movement, his heart immediately reclaiming its alert. His eyes gorged wide with fright, and he jumped to his feet.

A mask.

A mask of most vivid pale he had ever seen, jumping out like angry spectre from red lit trunks, lined up menacingly behind it it.

He grappled with its stare, but found he was at a loss, too strained, to confused to fight back. He squinted his eyes against its blinding white glare..

Neither markings nor features were upon it, just an oval, cut with two eye holes of empty expression. Ghostly blank.

But those eyes were not empty, livid anger burnt through the emptiness.

The forest had gone quiet.

It wanted to savour its revenge.

His eyes pulsed with ache, no living thing could be then pure and clean, have no dirt, grime or blood upon it, nor upon its uniform.

He started. Until that very second the mask had been a stand alone, a floating spirit, but now it was attached to a bodily form. But still the mask dominated.

What made the mask paler still, now he looked harder, was the hair. It burnt softly with the colours of an autumn's dusk, pouring from the top of the mask like waterfall then gracefully crashing down the pale straight of her slender neck and not stopping until the very base of her thin, subtlety curved back. She positively seeped with unearthly elegance, thin and sinewy, but radiating power, not the skilfully restrained raw power of the man at his feet, but instead tuned and calculating.

**_I know that colour. _**

He felt vulnerable, spirits were unpredictable.

How could it be human, it was far too pure, and its anger.

It smouldered with hatred only he thought he could hold.

And he had discarded humanity. Hadn't he?

Breath caught tight in his chest as the incorporeal body abruptly disappeared, whatever force that had been holding it together failing and leaving him alone, in now what was a fathomlessly silent and darkening wood. His eyes shifted erratically, trying to find some movement, his body too aquiver with panic to sense anything.

He would have to rely on his eyes, but how could he trust them, when they had shown him so much he would never believe.

Like a spark of flint, a leather clad fist jumped out from the silence, ripping through the air in front of it in motion to his temple. A wave of white hot power crashed through his head, travelling from one temple to the other like an electric surge with such force that he felt his jaw spasm and lock down onto his tongue. He felt the blood burst out from underneath the force of his teeth.

He had not been prepared

**One-two shorter chapters to follow, regardless to whether the story is greeted with possitive or negative feedback. Good to put a story up again.**

**Cherrio! **

**Samsu **


End file.
